Page 15 of The Saint

“Not to mention”—Amanda crossed her arms—“how many times did she have to call to get routed here?”

“No telling.” Camden retrieved the football and tossed it to himself, not very high but enough that he had something to do with his hands. “She’s having a hard time finding information.”

“Of which you have any?”

“No,” he confirmed. “But her brother-in-law is dead, and her sister is missing. She’s looking for answers.” Camden tossed and caught the football. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t walk through hell to find information about your family.” He already knew Amanda had lived through a wild ride of her own more than once and had done a few things that some might see as illogical. But she’d had her reasons. Camden wasn’t sure about Shah but would bet he would do the same. He dropped into a swivel chair. “I don’t blame her.”

The three of them sat with their thoughts. The only sound that broke the silence was the hum of the technology that surrounded them and the repetitive clap of Camden toying with the football.

“She had no idea?” Shah asked.

“Of her family’s involvement in the CIA?” He scoffed. “Didn’t sound like it.”

“That’s one hell of a way to find out.”

Camden clapped the football between his hands. “I want to know more about what happened in Arlington.”

Amanda moved to a computer terminal adjacent to Shah. “We could poke around and see what there is to see.”

“I already tried,” Camden admitted.

Both Shah and Amanda grinned like his effort was adorable but Camden shouldn’t question the experts at work. “I don’t want to get you guys in trouble.”

“It’s just research,” Amanda said.

“And here I thought I was the impulsive one.”

“This isn’t your impulsivity.” Amanda’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “It’s scratching a professional itch.”

Shah scooted to his computer. “I’m curious too. Let’s see what there is to see.”

Camden’s curiosity was multiplying to a level beyond what he would admit. He rolled his chair behind Shah.

The man looked back over his shoulder and said, “Give me room to work.”

Amanda leaned back from her keyboard. “There’s something about the Dumonts’ handler that’s been redacted. There’s another point of contact, but I’m not sure how long they’ve been connected.”

“Do you recognize the name?” Shah asked.

“No.” She clicked her mouse a few times and typed again. “Nothing but a profile of an up-and-coming socialite who—” Amanda scrolled. “Get this. Beth Tourne seems to love ritzy, glitzy parties and expensive things.” She turned toward them. “Like art.”

Camden’s eyebrows inched up. “Seemslike that would be a good connection for an art history professor and her auction-house husband to know.”

“Seems like,” Amanda agreed.

As the door opened, Jared Westin strode in, trailed by his bulldog. Their boss didn’t look pleased. Then again, he never did. “Thelma, sit.” Thelma plopped at his boots. “What are you three getting into?”

“We got a call yesterday—”

“Yeah. I know. What are you getting into now?”

There was a good chance that Boss Man already knew exactly what they were doing, not because he listened in on their conversations or spied on their devices but because he had a scarily uncanny ability to know everything all the time. It never worked out in Camden’s favor.

“Snooping around,” Shah explained with a casualness that Camden wished would disappear.

At the very least, Shah could have made their snooping sound like research.

Boss Man snorted.

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